Won't you celebrate with me: A Reflection on Lucille Clifton's Poem

A while ago, I came across a poem by Lucille Clifton entitled "won’t you celebrate with me" during my daily commute. As I usually do, I took a picture of the poem and forgot about it. It wasn't until months later that I came across the poem again. This time, it was featured in the Poems on the Underground leaflet: 40 Poems for 40 Years. And, of course, it got me thinking. 

My eyes ran through the poem. As I continued reading, I began to let its words unfold, allowing them to speak to me:

won't you celebrate with me
what i have shaped into
a kind of life? i had no model.
born in babylon
both nonwhite and woman
what did i see to be except myself?
i made it up
here on this bridge between
starshine and clay,
my one hand holding tight
my other hand; come celebrate
with me that everyday
something has tried to kill me
and has failed.

I thought to myself, truly there are times we find ourselves in situations we didn't create. At those times, we can make one of two choices: make the best of the situation or let it control us. So, when the poet says,

'won't you celebrate with me
what i have shaped into
a kind of life? i had no model.'

It resonated with me, reminding me of times when I felt stuck between a rock and a hard place, but still found a way to breathe. Times of feeling displaced whilst managing to place one foot in front of the other to keep things moving. These are things that are all too familiar if you live in the diaspora. It is not a situation you create, but one you learn to navigate over time. Being able to overcome the odds and make something of one's self however imperfect, certainly comes to mind when I read these words. When the poet says,

'born in babylon,
both nonwhite and woman
what did i see to be except myself?
i made it up
here on this bridge between
starshine and clay,
my one hand holding tight
my other hand'

Life in the diaspora comes to mind because it is not unusual to experience a loss of identity, even when one is born in the diaspora. On this side of the diaspora, you will often be asked, "Where are you from?" And when you tell them, "I'm from London," they respond, "What I mean is, where are you really from?" These kinds of questions reaffirm the sense of displacement and remind diasporans that they reside in Babylon. This can cause some diasporans to lose themselves while attempting to fit in, while propelling others to discover their true identity. However, these challenges can be overcome with a resilient spirit. Something the poet highlights when she says,

'come celebrate
with me that everyday
something has tried to kill me
and has failed.'

This truly speaks to me. It reminds me that when life throws you a few lemons, you simply figure out what to do with them. And when you do, what doesn't kill you will most certainly make you stronger. So, come celebrate with me that everyday, something has tried to get in my way and has failed. I can truly say this because, through Christ, I can do all things. Philippians 4:13